Part One - Part Two

Do you suppose if Bill the Bard had been one to tow sailboats across the country to messabouts, the phrase might have been, "Hell hath no fury, as a serpentine belt scorned."? For about the last ten or twenty thousand miles, Big Ole has had this "chirp" someplace in his circulatory system. Every now and then, I've given it a surreptitious look and listen. I've even replaced many of what the cognoscenti refer to as "bolt-ons" in an ongoing sort-of effort to find the problem. Actually, I've really always known. While scorn is a bit strong an indictment; denial is pretty close to the truth. I've always known that the idler and tensioner sheaves were likely culprits.

So, in my ongoing effort to take on difficult jobs and get really dirty when I really should be cleaning up my considerable honey-do list; I chose this morning to do a couple kinda-unsatisfying jobs.

For several days now, I've been painting this rubberized goop under the cowling of Lady Bug's new sort-of-inboard-engine. It's supposed to make machinery "whisper quiet." I'm all for quiet. This stuff takes a multitude of coats to build up to the scientifically determined thickness. While it's drying, and while I'm impatiently waiting to roll the thing over and do the other side, a skin forms not a lot unlike the skin that forms on a marshmallow when you only eat the crust that happens while dangling it over a campfire. If I move the cowling too soon, or-heaven forbid-not wait long enough for the skin to form, or put too much goop on in a single coat; the stuff that globs out looks just like bubbling lava exuding from the sides of a volcano. Not as hot, but just as messy. Well, more like marshmallow juice.

One of those last-minute jobs was to take Lady Bug down to the launch ramp for about the dozenth trip to check on "progress." And, progress would have to be a noticeable drop in decibels and vibration from that air cooled 2-stroke that I planted in Lady Bug's thoracic cavity.

In addition to the layer upon layer of goop that I've glopped under the hood, there are several other pseudo-scientific initiatives that were up for "testing." Like, the vibration dampener-thingie that I made outa' UV- stabilized HDPE (trade name, "Star Board.") Well, OK. Vibration dampening is NOT one of the miracles this slab of polymers is touted for. But, it was worth a shot. And, another vibration dampening scheme made outa' a rubber-backed door mat, seems to be performing better as a door mat than motor shock mount. But, I hear that even Edison burned quite a few filaments before he discovered tungsten.

Then, on to the absolute piece de resistance. My prior schemes to fill the ambient spaces surrounding the motor shaft with exhaust - and air - blocking stuff had pretty much come to naught. Swim noodles, and other expanded-poly derivatives have really not worked out so well. Then, an absolute epiphany struck.

I got a small-wheel innertube at the hardware store yesterday. I was like a kid on Christmas Eve. Absolutely certain this was the golden bullet. The notion was simply elegant. My devolving plan was to stick this tube up around the engine shaft and simply blow it up. Well, it wasn't quite supposed to blow up. Just get inflated, so a few obvious good things might happen. Like, making a removable seal, and getting the best vibration-dampener known to modern science squarely on the job: AIR.

So, there I was. 0530 and all alone on the ramp. I backed Lady Bug down into the water, lowered her on the articulated arms and rollers that have worked so well at so many other ramps, and clambered aboard. I started the little motor up and behold!

It was about as loud and vibraty as before.

It was probably time to pinch my fingers, drop things that don't make it all the way to the ground, and work by Braille in the dark recesses of Big Ole's engine box. Yep. I decided that I could take the ain't-broke-don't-fixit paradigm to a new and dizzying height. I decided to replace both the squeaking idler sheave and the "suspect" serpentine belt - all before breakfast. Winding that new belt around the water pump/fan assembly, and getting it with the grooved side to the grooves and the smooth side to the smooths turned out a whole lot like an episode of the old TV sitcom, "Friends." As I recall, Rachel spends about half the show mystifying Joey with demonstrations of removing her bra without taking off the surrounding garments. Except, Rachel didn't have to deal with the results of a long-standing power steering fluid leak and dead bugs packed into the radiator. Otherwise, about the same.

So, anyhow. The "chirp" is probably something else. The belt was probably OK. The little outboard motor still tickles my feet when I stand next to it, and I think I cut out most of the bass notes from that single-cylinder thumper and left the squeal of higher frequencies.

I think it's officially time to load some dry socks and Dinty Moore and point our noses west. I think I've fixed enough stuff for one trip.

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